


Whiskey Instead of Rubbing Alcohol

by MehLordOfMeh



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Humanformers, RP Turned Fic, transformers human au, transformers mob au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25436074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MehLordOfMeh/pseuds/MehLordOfMeh
Summary: This was a Human, Mobster Transformers Au rp were I played Ratchet and TheReaderOfStars played Optimus Prime.They fight. There's blood. Have a sneak peek:"... “Relax?! Oh, that’s rich coming from the main reason I’m like this in the first place! Do you have any idea how many times I thought I lost one of those boys?! But I don’t expect you to give a damn, you’ve shown me time and time again you only care about ending this damn terf war like some kindergarten brat on the playground! You sent men barely old enough to drink at a bar to do your dirty work and you expect me to be fine with that?! Aren’t we supposed to be better than them?! How is this being better?! They could have died- they still may die because of your incompetence!!” It was as if someone had thrown a switch in his head, he couldn’t stop. As he yelled he could feel his face heating, the fire condensing around his eyes and nose. ..."





	Whiskey Instead of Rubbing Alcohol

It had been ten hours since he left the medbay, ten hours of his hands deep in the gut of someone else, voice hoarse from barking order after order. It had been easy for him to fall into the adrenalin rush of having more patients than on-call nursing staff. The room where he had worked was freezing at one point but had since heated with the bodies that swarmed inside it like maggots to a corpse. In the chaos, he hadn’t realized how much blood had actually got on him and his once light blue scrubs were an ombre of reds. His arms still had specks of blood on them and he could feel the sweat still sliding down his face as he tried to calm his pounding heart. His eyes were thin slits as he squinted to deny the migraine that was begging to form behind his eyes. His shoulders were tense, boxed, and seemed like a warrior getting ready to face off against an army he was outnumbered for. His breath shutters for what seems like the millionth time since he left the ward with all its patients in stable condition, and he bowed his head to rub at the bridge of his nose. Outnumbered like the men Optimus had sent into the fray with nothing more than a pep talk and some rushed instructions. 

His teeth grind so hard together he could feel the sandiness of his teeth slowly being whittled away. His hand slammed onto his desk from his nose, reaching again for the large jack-daniels and pouring the open bottle into his glass. He threw his head back as he took the entire glass like a shot, the burn spreading like a poison across his tongue and burning away his anxieties as it scorched down his throat before sending one last devil’s cry up his nose. As it settled to melt his stomach, he sputtered a cough, moisture pricking his eyes as he rapidly blinked to clear his vision, sure if when his vision cleared the body of one of his patients would be lying dead before him. He ran a trembling hand through his now spiked hair, trying to smooth it down as if it would soothe him, but his anger caused his hand to clench around the ends and pull with a force that ripped a few strains from his head. The burn of vinegar was pungent when mixed with the copper scent coming from the ward down the hall. 

His office was dimmed and the only light was that on his desk, the yellowed glow reflecting off his face and making him seem gaunt and sickly discolored. Heavy bags under his bloodshot eyes, staring blankly at the paperwork that would need to be filled out and filed later. He couldn’t bring himself to even recount in writing what he had to do to save those poor men- boys, they were so young- lives. His breath wavers as his shoulders shake with the manifestation of his frustrations and he shakily poured himself another glass. Occasional beeps drifted into his office from behind his closed door and it seemed to him as if the reaper was ringing his bell and trying to lure those boys to eternal sleep after all he tried to do to save them. He wouldn’t be surprised if at least three didn’t survive the night- but he hoped to any god above, if one existed, that they would all pull through. He didn’t think he could handle having to call their mothers with the news of their children’s youthful demise. 

* * *

Optimus stood leaning against the doorway frame of his office, a cigar between his fingers. The smoke burning and forming above the brightly lit cherry of the center. His brows were furrowed and the skin between them pinched from thought. He stared down blankly at his feet, taking time to recall all that had transpired this night. Retracing his steps if only to fix his mistakes, he could not show weakness. Not when the families of this city always hungered for more territory. Not when those closest to him could be struck down or slaughtered for pigs all for nothing. He'd admit there was a bit of guilt in being selfish by having favorites. Though those he viewed close were family, this mafia was his family, as it's leader his word was the final say and he knew that well. To have sent so few, and to have treated it like a simple collection job or dealing had been his wrongdoing. This mistake was just a lesson to be learned for the future, and those who had participated would also learn from it. He'd drag his tongue over chapped lips, smoke leaving his nostrils like a dragon. He grits his teeth tossing the cigar down and crushing it with the heel of his foot, he figured he should speak to Ratchet. No doubt the medic would be overworking himself with tonight's misstep. 

He'd comb back his black locks of hair with his fingers, he stood before the hallway of Ratchet's office before walking in. He watched the doctor down the drinks before giving an audible cough to catch his attention, "You should ease up on the drinks old friend. With your work, you may cough it back up alongside your lunch" he murmured walking closer but keeping a foot between them.

"You've worked hard tonight Ratchet. Perhaps you should take a break" he said. His blue eyes trailing over the bloody frame of the other, grimacing at the thought of how much gore the other had seen and been forced to repair. To damage and break things was simple, to put them together was a process he himself could not yet begin to comprehend. His posture was rather relaxed compared to Ratchet's, as though tonight's events had just been a mere inconvenience, like spilling a drink on a new suit. It was annoying, but you could live through it without a second thought.

* * *

Ratchet was pulled from his melancholy slowly, the clearing of a throat had seemed far off and dulled by the beeping that had increased when the door was opened. The fog that surrounds his head slowly drifted away and down to his throat, turning solid and constricting- sending sharp sparks of pain up to behind his eyes. His eyes wandered slowly, irises shaking as they racked up the form of Optimus, his relaxed demeanor and the lingering scent of cigar smoke a sharp jarring from the sterile environment. Yet in the back of his throat, he could still smell the rich copper. As the words drifted toward him and nestled themselves inside his brain he felt an almost uncharacteristic bubbling of emotions that forced him to slam down the whiskey bottle onto the table. A few droplets splashed up from the bottle and landed on the papers in front of him and he felt a choked noise leave him, the fog still having an iron grip around his throat. For all of Optimus’ fringed relaxation, he seemed about as inviting as death himself as if the possible deaths of those young men in his medbay were nothing more then pawns to be directed into more elaborate ways to die.

Perhaps it was the whiskey, or the long hours he had worked, or the high stress of their situation- or some grotesque combination of all three, but loathing was the name his mind gave the sudden swell of emotion. It brewed like a volcano and before he could stop himself, force himself to breathe and actually think, he stood with such velocity from his desk that his chair went flying back onto the floor. His glass of whiskey came with him and he watched as if from third person as he jerked the glass’ open-top right to Optimus, flinging the liquid into his boss’s face. His breathing turned ragged as his throat opened up and the bubbling venom that had been held at bay by his jaws finally began to spill from him.   
  
“Relax?! Oh, that’s rich coming from the main reason I’m like this in the first place! Do you have any idea how many times I thought I lost one of those boys?! But I don’t expect you to give a damn, you’ve shown me time and time again you only care about ending this damn terf war like some kindergarten brat on the playground! You sent men barely old enough to drink at a bar to do your dirty work and you expect me to be fine with that?! Aren’t we supposed to be better than them?! How is this being better?! They could have died- they still may die because of your incompetence!!” It was as if someone had thrown a switch in his head, he couldn’t stop. As he yelled he could feel his face heating, the fire condensing around his eyes and nose.    
  
The embers of his rage burned with a passion he hadn’t felt in years, not since he first became a doctor and witnessed his first atrocity. The fire had his entire body rippling with the need to vent, his spine was a coiling snake rearing himself back and preparing to strike as his muscles tensed in anticipation for- something. His heart was now slamming against his chest like a war drum and he felt decades younger and older all at once, reinvigorated yet drained and the conflicting emotions raging inside his skull like a tsunami hitting a jetty had his vision swimming as he hyper-focused on Optimus’ face.   


* * *

Optimus had watched him at first, prepared to reach out and steady the medic or pull him away from his work. He hadn't expected the sharp sound of thick glass hitting wood. For a moment he was certain the glass would shatter, he prepared himself for the typical scolding of the doctor. He tensed at the flying seat, his blue eyes trained on the medic in a slight glower prepared for the onslaught of likely insults. What he hadn't prepared for was the splash of alcohol in his face, he jerked his head away eyes shutting tightly as he began to thrash his head about like a dog. His teeth bared themselves in a snarl as he used the sleeve of his suit to wipe his face, "Have you lost your goddamn mind?!" He shouted at the medic. He continued to try and remain calm and above the situation, "When they signed into the family they knew what they were getting into Ratchet! We all do, I simply misjudged the situation and made a mistake! Would you rather have innocent civilians killed or all of us in this mob slaughtered because we gave in and didn't fight back?!" He asked, giving a slight glare in turn.

The mob boss attempted to give a stern stare, his whole body tense, and his hands curled into fists. His lip curled in a snarl, a silent threat for Ratchet to back down. "We'll all learn from this experience, won't we? It's been a rough night, I suggest you get out of the office, get fresh air and get your damn common sense back before you do something you regret. Okay?" He said trying to sound comforting though from his tense expression it sounded more condescending than it did sincere. "You're old friend, you're tired and likely unfocused from the whiskey and work. Just get out and get some rest before you give someone here the wrong impression," he said stepping back and gesturing to the door with his hand like some kind of chauffeur. He wouldn't be surprised if some young members among the ranks walked in on them and became violent from caution.

* * *

Ratchet did not even blink at the silent threats Optimus was giving him, instead he let them kindle his growing fire. He squared his shoulders turning his body some and bringing his hand back which still clenched the glass. He needed to release some of this aggression or he felt he may start to break bones from how tense he was. He slammed the empty cup onto the desk, letting go of it before his hand could get too close to the surface and the glass shattered everywhere. Its echo danced across his psyche and he felt the sound ease something dark in the back of his mind. His eyes snapped up to Optimus, blue eyes which matched the stormy sea staring right back at Optimus with every bit of defiance he could muster which had him looking like a revolutionary standing fearlessly in front of an unjust system.    
  
“Knew what they got themselves into?” His voice a whisper, a sharp contrast to how it was before. It was the whisper of a man losing hope in someone he once believed in. “You’ve lost your goddamn mind.” His voice begins to harden, becoming as cold as an arctic winter. “These people have joined you because they believed you could make their lives better. That you could save this rotten city and give them something to live for.” He shakes his head, hands reaching up to his head again, tangling in his hair and yanking down and fisting at his sides. He looks up from under his brow ridge, body trembling. “You’re right, I have learned a lesson.” He says, taking a step around the desk and moving to stand unimpeded in front of Optimus. 

“You are an incompetent, self-absorbed asshole who has everyone wrapped around his finger. You think your honeyed words and a charming smile can get anyone to follow blindly and that your strength can intimidate those who even dare question you.” He snarls right back, making sure to take steps to Optimus to get right into his face. He was now so close he could smell the breath of the other and see his own reflection in the other’s eyes. He then puffs out a harsh laugh through his nose at that last statement, “The wrong idea? How wrong could they be when the King of fucking Bad Decisions is standing right in front of me! Get the FUCK Out of my office before I show you how much of an inexperienced child you are, Prime.” He growls out, pointing an accusing finger into the other’s chest before yanking his thumb towards the door.

* * *

Optimus kept himself from flinching at the sharpness of the sound, standing his ground and baring his teeth. Rage crawled and crept through his body like sharp claws. He clenched his teeth, an annoyed expression crossing his face. He didn't step back when Ratchet marched back up to him, the gaze set in him by the medic had something inside of him sneering. Though perhaps it was the fact that Ratchet's words held some truth. Not that he could really allow that though, the mob life was a hard one. Even if they wanted to do good for people, they were all drug dealers or killers in some form. Even the commissioner of a hitman held blood upon their hands for it was their voice that called for another end. He found it so enraging and aggravating to have Ratchet standing here yelling at him like he was some rookie new to the game.

"I've lost my mind, sure, but you forgot exactly what life we walked into. You act like you weren't once out there too Ratchet fighting and trying to prove ourselves to the boss." he spat. He grew annoyed from the other's jabbing finger, moving a hand onto his shoulder and pushing him back slightly. "If I am a child what does that make you, you ignorant old fool! You know I'd expect you to agree with me, since half the time you're calling my ideas for peaceful treaties bullshit! Your office?! You wouldn't have this fucking office if I didn't pay for it and run this damn place! I'm in charge here and you better damn well remember that!" He snapped face flushed in anger as he himself was getting worked up from the argument. He could almost feel the throb of a vein in his neck, his body was even shaking from him trying to restrain his own anger. What right did Ratchet have to lecture him? He was only doing what was best for the city and the family. What was best for them, for him, and for himself? Couldn't the medic see that?

* * *

Ratchet, lord forgive him, had tried to keep his balling fists docile and he should have expected Optimus to push him away- he knew the man well enough. However it didn’t seem to matter, it was like a cord had finally snapped, his other hand which had been white-knuckled at his right side pulled back like a bowstring, his fist the arrow which hit its mark at Optimus jaw. He then stared, wide-eyed at what he had done. In all his years he had never once hit Optimus, not in anger at least and never with the intent to hurt. Yet somehow he didn’t feel regretful. His mind felt hazed as he responded through snarling teeth, breathing heavily as he tried to compose himself and ready himself for a fight he was not physically prepared for but one he was mentally hoping for. He knew that he either needed to beat Optimus to a pulp or have Optimus do that to him, they were animals at their cores, and like animals disputes needed to be settled in blood.    
  
“Don’t you dare claim to know me.” He manages to ground out, his body smoothly transitioning into a defensive stance, back foot planted and arms slightly bent to be able to block a hit he knew was coming. “I joined this hell hole as a naive child wanting revenge for a family I lost and I regret every damned thing I did. Why do you think I’m a doctor? I’ve done terrible things but at least I’m trying to repent instead of continuing to sell my soul to the devil.” His voice is even, but like the motionless ocean, a storm was brewing that entailed within the stormy clouds of his eyes that he was going to finish what he started no matter what. He was no longer the Beta supporting Optimus and lecturing him, he was an Alpha challenging him for the simple sake of proving his point. 

* * *

Optimus had never expected Ratchet to strike him, freezing momentarily like a deer in headlights. The sharp strike had his head turning suddenly, he stood there in shock reaching up to feel the warm sting of his jaw and part of his lip. His chapped lips had cracked a bit of blood slipping from it, he'd wipe it away with his fingers staring down at the smeared crimson coloring. The flavor of copper lightly slipping into his mouth as he licked his lips. His gaze was slow to trail towards Ratchet, but once it had he was locked on him like a predator. His lip curled in a sneer, "And I was just an orphan taken in by the boss. I pledged loyalty to this family . . . My blood and the blood of others. I've shared many secrets with your old friend, hiding nothing, and yet now with that gaze and that stance, it feels like an enemy is standing before me." he said. He took a look at Ratchet's stance, the other was likely expecting a swing he thought. His calm and motionless face would scrunch before he let out an enraged yell. He dove at the doctor like a wild animal, his own eyes shining like frost. 

If he had claws they would have been unsheathed, he was prepared to physically beat sense into the medic. Perhaps they both had this coming for a long time, just something to finally burn up all the pent up stress and aggression they'd held back for so long. Optimus could feel a rush of adrenaline filling his body, readying him for the mess of a situation that was about to unfold before him. His face was similar to a snarling dog, parting its jaws for the locking bite. Like a hound, he was ready to show who was in charge, if anything he'd finally prove he was the leader of this pack and that his word was final even among his most trusted friends.

* * *

Ratchet let out a cry equal to the fury he felt, bringing his arms up to protect him. He stumbled backward with the force of Optimus slamming into him, the breath getting knocked out of him. "Funny! I was thinking the same damn thing!" He yells back, bringing a knee up to kick the other in the gut. He then swings all his weight to one side, switching places with Optimus so the other was now slammed up against the wall. He threw his fist back again, trying to grapple to have the upper hand. Optimus was younger, stronger, more experienced in fighting then he was- but that wasn’t going to stop him. He pressed the forearm of his other arm against Optimus’ throat to try his best at holding him in place.    


As he drew his fist forward he made sure to put all his weight into it, Optimus was bigger than him in every way and he needed to get good hits in unless he wanted this to end before he was satisfied. This time his fist landed squarely on the beside Optimus face, his knuckles churching into the drywall and leaving an indent that was tinged red. The voice ringing out had him sputtering before snarling in rage as he stumbled to the side and off of Optimus, his arm dropping from Optimus throat to his side. 

* * *

Optimus would try his best to block the hits he could from the other, trying to swing back and even claw what he could. The knee to his gut had him gritting his teeth to keep from groaning at the pain. The mob boss made a choked sound at having his throat pressed upon, the restricting feeling of his windpipe being squished but not completely flattened was uncomfortably claustrophobic as he seemed to wheeze for air. He was staring hard at Ratchet trying to recall the other's weak spots, jerking his head downward to bite at what he could reach of the other like a rabid dog. He then raised his foot, wedging his knee between their bodies and pushing, sending the other reeling backward.

Optimus rubbed his jaw still stinging from the punch, a copper taste was in his mouth, he assumed it had been his busted lip until he glanced at Ratchet's attire. He turned away gritting his teeth and trying to keep from spitting onto the ground. Despite their current situation, he had enough respect not to do that to Ratchet's floors. 

"Now where were we?" He said turning to Ratchet before swinging at the medic again. One could truly compare the two adults to a pair of bickering boys fighting out their issues.

* * *

Ratchet stumbled backward, having lost his balance with the wind being knocked out of him, before looking at him. He reaches out, arm extending and his glistening arm caught his attention. He looked closer, eyes widening at the imprint of teeth on his forearm. He sees the speckles of blood all over his arms that had dried and initially panics. He didn't know if those boys were infected with anything- he looks up, about to tell Optimus to rinse out his mouth or spit for fucks sake! When he looks up in time to see a fist heading to his face. He doesn't have time to duck, he can hear the crunch of his own nose as he goes stumbling back again. His back slams against his filing cabinets, hands coming up to cup his nose and he looks up at Optimus. He snarls, all the previous rage rushing to the surface and he charges at the other.

His eyes were narrowed in a bitter determination to finish this or put up one hell of a fight. He recalled his younger years in the mob, the fights in dingy alleyways, and the addictive thrill of winning. His hands turned to fists again and he pulled his arm under his body, bending his knees as he outstretched his other arm. One fist aimed as a distraction to be grabbed and the other pulled taut and ready to spring up and strike the underside of Optimus jaw. However, Ratchet didn't realize just how disconnected his mind was from his body at the moment and his fist swung up before the time and he couldn't do anything but go with it, the fist that was meant to distract opened and slammed down on Optimus shoulder to hopefully hold him in place. His fist that came up from below them thankfully struck its goal, albeit a bit off, and didn't have as much force as he had wished it did.

* * *

Optimus smirked when he made contact, the crunch made him momentarily falter. Sure he wanted to fight Ratchet, but he didn't want to really damage him. He attempted to move out of the way when Ratchet came at him like a charging bull, but unluckily he was scored and had to tense himself as he was thrown back. He'd Swallow the spit in his mouth, Adam's apple bobbing and he made a face at having done so. Optimus felt his back make contact with a wall of the office, he looked down at Ratchet wanting to make it harder for the other to hit his jaw. He did however feel the other's knuckled make contact with his mouth, and at that moment he wished he had spit in the other's face. "Can you fucking take off those gloves if you're gonna be hitting near my mouth?!" He shouted attempting to sweep the other's legs out from under him.

He had to admit despite being a bit younger than Ratchet, anger was making him burn out a little despite adrenaline coursing through him. No doubt they'd both need mild patching up and a drink after this. He reached up pulling off his tie to keep the other from strangling him with it, throwing it aside and trying to blindly swing back with his fist to what he could reach. It wasn't really about winning for him anyway, not anymore. This was just needing to burn up pent up rage and let everything out, hell even cry if he had too. Ratchet was the only one he trusted to see him so vulnerable like that anyway.

* * *

Ratchet stumbled forward before grunting as his legs were kicked out from under him, falling to the floor and landing on the side of his hip. He grits his teeth glaring up at Optimus from the floor and yanking his gloves off- he was right about that at least. He couldn't risk anymore cross-contamination. He throws his gloves in the general direction of the trashcan moving to stand but decided to stay crouched as the other threw away his tie. He felt offended at that, had Optimus thought he would be so petty as to grab the tie? 

With a howl and a ducked even lower, running forward and slamming his shoulder into the others gut, arms wrapping around his waist and flinging himself to the floor. He went tumbling still holding onto Optimus but he, of course, the irony wouldn't be lost, landed wrong, and landed on his back. He bent a leg, trying to wedge a knee between their bodies as he tried to force the other to roll. His breath was rough and sounded with a rattle as blood ran down the back of his throat and choked him slightly. He was starting to feel dizzy.

* * *

Optimus gave a snort at the other's fall, "Don't go breaking a hip now" he muttered standing tall taking a moment to catch his breath. His body seemed to relax from its tense form until Ratchet dove at him. He was taken by surprise and confused when he found himself to be above the medic, though that expression was quickly wiped from his face as the knee dug into his stomach. He made a sound similar to a bleating goat as the wind was knocked from his lungs. He seemed to paw at Ratchet trying to push off the other, he was struggling to catch his breath from the hit. He despised the feeling, it wasn't the first time he had the wind knocked out of him, but that didn't make it pleasant.

"Let go of me you fucking idiot" he groaned trying to roll off. He had to keep from spitting out his lunch, his chest heaving as he wanted nothing more than to cradle his stomach and try to soothe it. "Ratchet seriously, I think I'm gonna hurl" he groaned not having expected this from the other. He had to admit they both probably looked stupid, one with the wind knocked out of him ready to curl up like a bug, and the other on his back practically choking. For a pair of mobsters, he had to admit they looked like idiot teens in a stunt gone wrong.

* * *

Ratchet quickly lets the other go at his words, pushing the other off and sitting up. He instinctively rolled Optimus onto his side before moving away to rest on the floor with his back pressed to the wall. He bent a leg, propping an arm on it and whipping at his nose with the other arm. He hisses at the pain, not only had Optimus most like broke his nose but also had busted his lip. He looks himself over, he wasn't in as bad a condition as he had thought he would be but his years were catching up to him. He felt ready for a nap and the burn of whiskey was finally dying. 

His head was pounding and sending needle-like pain to his eyes, making his vision blurry. He shakily looks up to Optimus, eyeing the boss. "I'm supposed to be your right hand...you didn't talk to me about the plan." he manages, trying to swallow the globs of blood that ran down his throat. "If you had, I would have..have.." he bows his head, a bitter chuckle leaving him before he bangs his head against the wall hard in frustration. "I know you hate when I undermined your orders, Optimus, but I could have at least refined your orders so they wouldn't be this hurt. I-I almost lost one, Optimus...he was the youngest out of all of them and before he fell unconscious he called for his mother. I may act like a hardened vet but...I saw myself in the kid...saw you in him when we first joined this life." he says, bowing his head and gripping his hair. Blood and sweat mixed together and dripping onto the floor, he could feel the anger and hatred melt away and leave behind the true culprits of his rage. He was terrified, it could have been Optimus on that slab, bleeding to death. He didn't want this life anymore, he just wanted to retire and move back home, take care of his dying mother, and pretend he was never part of this life. He was aging and with no children or spouse to speak of he would die alone and that terrified him.

* * *

Optimus curled into a ball hugging his stomach, at first laughing because of how pathetic they both looked before that broke off into a strained sound. "We're too old for this shit Ratchet. . . I didn't talk to you because this would have happened anyway. I didn't know more of them would show up, you think I wanted you to share the blame? Your my right hand but you’re a medic, you’re a hero to these kids. They look to you when they're hurt, I'm the reason they're nearly dying out there. You don't deserve a part of the blame" he said feeling his eyes growing blurry from the thin shine of tears. Hearing the other's explanation he felt guilt claw at him, he'd groan covering his face in shame. Had the original boss been wrong in choosing him as the successor? 

He didn't feel like he was doing the family name of Autobots justice, he looked towards Ratchet forcing himself to steady his breath. "Ratchet, you've worked hard with me all these years never once abandoning me. I walked into this life not because it was all I had left, but because it became home. I didn't want to leave it, and I don't think I ever will. I promised not to until I die, but you don't have to keep following me" he murmured crawling over and placing a hand on the other's shoulder. "This life can replace a doctor easy, and if you choose to leave no one would blame you. If I leave, it's going to be in a dark casket or a body bag." He said moving to rest his head on the other's shoulder, "You can leave, get married, and go on with the years you have left" he murmured. He was limp against the doctor, too tired to fight or to move anymore. "Hell . . . We'll throw you a big party before you go" he said, forcing himself to smile against the other.

* * *

Ratchet huffed out a laugh that sounded clogged with gunk, before shaking his head slowly. "Can't argue with that...Got more grey hairs than blonde these days.." he says, tilting his head to look at the other. He listened, he seemed older now. The skin under his eyes sagged, wrinkles on his forehead still present even outside of worry and he seemed no more alive than a corpse. His eyes flicker away from Optimus at being called a Hero, that word tasted bitter on his tongue and he wished the taste would be full of anger or something other than the hollow emptiness that was enveloping him. His voice is hoarse as he speaks, mumbling out, "You know I don't care what others think, Optimus...I still blame myself." He voices cracks but he forces the lump forming in his throat down.

When Optimus spoke again he didn't at first look over, his hearing was getting dull. He closed his eyes tightly at Optimus words, out of everyone he had been his friend from the beginning and no matter how much he wanted this gang war to end he wouldn't leave Optimus. He jerks his head to the other, eyes wide and mouth opening to interject, but Optimus crawling towards him had him truly assessing the other. The other looked like shit like he would kill over any second. He jumped at the hand on his shoulder but didn't push it away, his own leg laying flat on the ground as his hands came up to try and help steady the other. Ratchet shook his head, gritting his teeth and wrapping his arms around Optimus. He pulled the other closer to himself, "No...No I have no life out there, I don't know anyone outside of the Family. Outside of my Family." He says, resting the side of his head on the side of Optimus. "I won't leave until you do, I won't abandon you." He manages out, he had wished for any emotion but now he wished he didn't feel it. He hated crying more than anything, he was a doctor, dammit, he was supposed to be strong.

* * *

Optimus continued to smile, though it began to grow forced and crooked as a warm wetness slipped down his cheeks. He was silent at first, letting the tear soak into Ratchet's scrubs, his hands slowly moving to wrap back around the other before he pressed his face down hard trying to bury it away from the world's gaze. listened, he seemed older now. "I know, that's why I didn't want you in on it Ratch. You'd have blamed yourself for any mistakes and would have felt worse" he murmured. He admired Ratchet's loyalty, it's why he had chosen him as his right-hand man. Ratchet was always there to correct him, to give him a reality check when he needed it, and to have his back when no one else would. Memories surfaced from their childhood of running jobs, standing back to back in fights. The times they'd nearly died together and times he had only Ratchet to rely on when he was sure it would be the end of them.

"I wish you would. You could start over and make yourself a family Ratchet. This life doesn't bring you joy, hell its making those hairs all grey" he mused reaching up a hand to ruffle the other's hair. He sighed continuing to keep his voice steady. "I think I swallowed most of the blood that got in my mouth from your scrubs, probably the second dumbest thing I've done today. How's your nose feeling?" He murmured sliding down his hand to gently feel the other's face, though he wouldn't remove his own from Ratchet's shoulders. He was afraid that if he looked at the other that he'd start crying like a kid again.

* * *

Ratchet listened with ringing ears, choking slightly as Optimus buried his face in his neck. He held on tighter to him as he spoke, feeling his throat clamp up and a pressure behind his eyes. "What kind of friend would I be if I left you all alone?" He asks through the forming tears. He can feel his face heat again but this time in trying to hold back his own sniveling. He then jerks, "WHAT?! Oh for the love of-!" He stops himself, taking a deep breath before sighing heavily and relaxing back into Optimus. "Guess that one's on me...hey!" He gives a halfhearted shout, before hissing in pain.

He jerks his face away from Optimus' prying hand as his own grabbed his wrist. "I'm fine, maybe a bruise and a stint. How's your jaw and mouth?" He asks, pulling away to cup the others face and get a good look at it. His nose had stopped bleeding and the blood was starting to cake. He squinted at the other, his vision was blurry from the headache and the sweat that stung his eyes.

* * *

Optimus sighed, not in annoyance or distress but in relief of what Ratchet had told him. He'd have honestly felt lost without the other at his side. Optimus smiled softly at the outburst, an amused chuckled leaving him before gritting his teeth at the hope of his face. It may have been gentle, it still stung from the two hits he took, not to mention clenching his jaw while biting. "Hurts like a bitch, but I'll be fine too. God we should have done this shit in our twenties, we're too old for this" he said laughing moving to remove his head from the other's hold. 

"Want me to call up a nurse? You need to get cleaned and patched up. So do I, we really fucked one another up" he muttered, shaking his head. "And your office, you need a fucking bath though. I can still taste copper in my mouth and I don't even know if that's my blood or the scrubs" he said moving to flop into Ratchet's lap tiredly. "Not gonna lie I really thought you'd try and choke me out for being an idiot." He added chuckling and shaking his head for his silly and rather stupid assumption.

* * *

Ratchet sighs, shaking his head before making an 'oof' sound as the other collapses onto him again. He then grunts in agreement, "You can say that again..." He mumbles, before shaking his head. "Nah, they worked hard enough and they should have a break...I'll patch us up then clean up and shower." He says, resting his head back against the wall. His arms were loosely wrapped around the other and he was having to now breathe through his mouth with how clogged his nose was.

He then sighs, "Well, you won't help that unless you get off me." he says, he knew he was answering sluggishly and delayed. He was tired, the whiskey wasn't helping and he was daunting the clean up of his office. "Get up, we either do this now or I'm going to fall asleep." He pats the others back, eyes closed and frowning.


End file.
